


The Galaxy Garrison Musical

by bffimagine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, High School Musical References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Music, Romance, Singing, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bffimagine/pseuds/bffimagine
Summary: It started with a duet in a crowd of people but for all they cared, they could've been the only two in the room.(Kind of a High School Musical!AU that got very much derailed and ended up in space.)





	The Galaxy Garrison Musical

**Author's Note:**

> Please see end notes for playlist (in case you don't want spoilers).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do NOT own Voltron, High School Musical, or any of the songs referenced in this piece of fiction written for pure entertainment and not for profit.
> 
> Started as a High School Musical!AU, now we're here...

“I’m really happy you’re here, Keith,” Shiro said quietly, his hand a comforting, familiar weight on Keith’s shoulder.

“Me too, Shiro.” A small smile quirked Keith’s lips upward.

They settled into a companionable silence as Keith unpacked his meagre belongings. Besides his clothes, the only things he could call his own were a worn leather-bound journal that still bore the marks of the inside of his pillowcase from years of hiding it in the orphanage, a wickedly sharp knife wrapped thickly in cloth bandages, and three polaroid photos tucked into a frayed, yellowed envelope.

Move-in day was usually full of fanfare for teary-eyed families who would have to wait for the fall break to see their kids again and for the excited, fresh-faced cadets with dreams of running their fingers through an endless sea of stars and feeling the gravity of their existence melt away.

For Keith, it felt like an escape. It felt like the first taste of real freedom he’d ever had.

And, as he looked over at Shiro, it felt like the closest thing to belonging he’d ever known.

“You know… there’s a welcome party for all the new cadets,” Shiro said, aiming for casual.

“Not interested.”

“I thought… you might wanna get to know your classmates?”

“Not interested, Shiro.”

“I’m going.”

“Have fun.”

Shiro gave him a few seconds before pouncing on him and pretty much dragging him toward the door as Keith clawed at whatever he could grasp in order to avoid leaving. He left a trail of destruction in his wake.

“Dammit, Shiro! I don’t want to go!”

\-----

Lance fucking _loved_ parties.

“Hunk, this is awesome! I can’t believe the Garrison does something this cool at the beginning of the year. We’re gonna meet our classmates, and maybe some of them will be cute girls, and—”

“Oh my—Lance! LANCE! Don’t drink that! I saw them spike it!”

\-----

“This is stupid,” Keith grumbled, trying to find a seat as far from the throng of moving bodies and pulsating music as he could. He was content to sit and scroll through random shit on his phone, looking up different specs for the hoverbike that he one day wished he could build, and more importantly, fly. There was a visceral sense of liberation that came with hurtling through space and time with nothing but speed and instinct to propel you forward—no agendas, no expectations, just a raw way to live in the moment, even if there was a mission to achieve by the end of it. Keith had fallen in love with the flight simulator from the second he set foot in one during the qualification tests. It was the first time he felt like everything was just slotting perfectly into place, and he never understood the idea of “home” as much as he felt at the artificial helm that day.

And that was how the kid with no one to miss him, no one to care if he went missing, and no one tying him down to this planet (except Shiro, but he’d be out there in space with him someday anyway) ended up getting a full scholarship to attend the most prestigious pilot program in the world. He’d left the orphanage with a one-way ticket to the desert (a gift for his fourteenth birthday from the nuns, probably accompanied by the hopes that the problem child wouldn’t come back) and absolutely no back-up plan.

He was never the type to look back.

But despite the way he demolished even star pilot Takashi Shirogane’s unprecedented scores in the flight simulator on his first try, he was sitting awkward and alone in a giant crowd of people he didn’t know and honestly didn’t care to meet.

“Come on, you can’t spend the entire party reading about—“ Shiro craned his neck to peer at Keith’s phone screen, “—the physics of hovercrafts? Really, Keith? Lift dynamics?”

“Hey, it’s more interesting than watching all these underage people drink contraband liquor and make fools of themselves.”

Shiro smiled and shook his head. “Well, technically, only the people who are of age are supposed to be allowed to drink.” He winked and lifted his red Solo cup in a weird almost-salute.

Keith rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, old man.”

“Hey! I literally just turned eighteen, let me live a little.”

“I don’t know why you brought me here.”

Shiro’s hand was warm and solid on Keith’s knee. His slate-gray eyes were way too earnest as they bored into Keith’s.

“Because I’m worried about you. I want you to make some friends because I won’t be around forever.”

Keith turned off his phone and scooted a little closer to Shiro with a frown.

“What are you talking about? Of course you won’t be around forever, but once you get sent on your first mission, I won’t be that far behind, I swear. I’ll work hard, I’ll do whatever it takes—”

Shiro stopped him with a hand raised in surrender. “I know, Keith,” he chuckled, but it sounded a little sad, “but what about the time in between? Who will be there for you when I can’t be?”

Keith scowled and crossed his arms. “I don’t need anybody else.”

Shiro hummed into the rim of his cup and didn’t reply.

\-----

“Lance, please, for the love of all that is good in this world, please do _not_ get up on that stage!”

“Hunk, Hunk, my man, my dude—it’s fine. Look, everything’s gonna be fine, I’m just gonna get up there and do my thing.”

“Ooh, everyone, looks like we’ve got a taker for karaoke!” someone announced over the din of the conversations filling all the spaces in the room. Lance’s head whipped around. Wait, what?

“Do we have a volunteer for a duet?” that same voice boomed over the crowd. The throng of people surrounding the stage started to thin out, leaving a big open space with just two guys lounging on fold-out chairs. They both turned toward the stage and looked stricken, realizing the spotlight was on them.

Suddenly the taller guy was shoving the smaller guy toward the edge of the stage and the smaller guy let out a terrified yelp. Some more people joined in, lifting the guy onto the stage even as he panicked and struggled against them.

Lance felt pretty bad for him, it was cruel to push someone into the spotlight like that…

“Just breathe and have fun, Keith! Patience yields focus,” the tall guy yelled above the growing excitement of the crowd.

The guy next to Lance on stage huddled into himself, arms wrapped around his middle protectively.

“Oh, fuck you, Takashi,” he heard the guy grumble. His longish dark hair (was that seriously a friggen’ _mullet_??) fell into his face, obscuring Lance’s view of pretty purple eyes and fine cheekbones. Keith, huh? He was kinda cute, aside from the bad haircut.

Suddenly the music came on and Lance inwardly groaned. Of fucking course, they’d be super humiliating and pick a sappy love song… okay, well, fuck them, Lance was gonna boggle their minds.

 

_I remember what you wore on our first date_

_You came into my life and I thought,_

_Hey, you know, this could be something_

 

He let himself get comfortable behind the mic, even if he was hesitant at first. At least he could blow this shit out of the water and make a good impression on his future classmates.

 

_So maybe it’s true that I can’t live without you_

…wait, what the fuck? Was mullet guy actually fucking harmonizing with him?

 

_Well maybe two is better than one_

_There’s so much time to figure out the rest of my life_

_And you’ve already got me coming undone_

 

Holy shit, mullet guy was totally harmonizing with him. Lance turned away from the mic for a second to cough to hide his swooning. He peeked from the corner of his eye and noted that the other guy hadn’t unfurled his limbs at all, but he was curled around the mic stand a bit and sounded like a freaking _angel_.

 

_And I’m thinking two is better than one_

 

Well, fuck him sideways, upside-down, and inside-out. This guy could fucking sing! Seriously, what was this? A chick flick? What were the chances that somehow the two random people that ended up onstage that night would be Lance, who knew he could sing but wasn’t really expecting to do so in front of all these people (meh, he was still game), and this random guy who looked like he would rather be anywhere but at this party and especially anywhere other than this stage, despite the fact that he sang like he was serenading Lance’s heart and soul. If his posture wasn’t screaming, “get me the fuck out of here”, Lance might’ve thought that this guy was _trying_ to make Lance fall hard and flat on his face for him.

 

_I remember every look upon your face_

_The way you roll your eyes, the way you taste_

_You make it hard for breathing_

_‘Cause when I close my eyes and drift away_

_I think of you and everything’s okay_

_I’m finally now believing_

 

Oh, shit on a stick. Even if pretty mullet guy wasn’t putting real effort into making Lance’s heart race, he was fucking succeeding and doing so with flying colours.

They launched into the chorus again, this time Lance took the harmony and mullet guy took the melody, somehow coordinated even though they hadn’t actually made eye contact yet. The other guy was slowly relaxing bit by bit, holding himself progressively less stiff behind the mic stand, eyes closed and face illuminated by the stage lights. He was sort of glowing, and it was beautiful, and Lance could tell he was trying to escape into the music, the lyrics, the rhythm, and pretend he was far, far away from the rapt attention of all their future classmates and upperclassmen around them.

And that was when Lance finally noticed that it was silent except for the background track. All those conversations had dissolved into awed silence, and every eye in the room was trained on the two of them on that stage. Mullet guy didn’t have an ounce of stage presence, but Lance could understand why everyone was mesmerized—the dude just looked like he was in the zone, and his inky dark hair was haloed in the golden spotlight, equally dark eyelashes casting long, sharp shadows over smooth, milky cheeks.

Lance smiled weakly into the cold mesh of the microphone against his lips. He was so royally fucked. Who the hell developed crushes on random guys that unwillingly sang karaoke duets with them?!

Why was this his life?

 

_Two is better than one_

 

The last chord of the song finally petered out and Lance felt his heart fluttering wildly under his Adam’s apple. What the hell was that? It was an exquisite cross between torture and the most magical fucking experience of his life.

“Hey,” he whispered as the crowd sat in stunned silence, “the name’s Lance. Who’re you?”

The other guy finally looked at him. Lance felt the weight of that violet gaze like a punch to the throat.

“I’m Keith.”

“Well, Keith, we make a pretty good team.”

Keith averted his eyes. Lance’s gut twisted at the loss. Oh, he was so fucking _gone_ for this guy and they’d literally only just introduced themselves. A slow, tiny smile flicked up at the corners of Keith’s lips and Lance actively told himself not to pass the fuck out.

It was like the crowd finally broke out of a trance and erupted into raucous applause. Lance’s cheeks burned but he was kinda proud, too. And flattered. He smiled out into the crowd, gave a weird lame little wave that he instantly regretted, then turned back to Keith only to find that he had disappeared without a trace.

“Okay, so I guess I’m not getting your number,” he muttered to himself.

\-----

“I fucking hate you,” Keith griped the entire way back to their shared dorm room. Shiro had some serious weight he could pull as the Garrison’s pride and joy, hence being able to pick the room furthest away from the hullabaloo of other students as well as selecting a roommate from another class, which was actually strange to everyone who didn’t know them, because if you had first pick of a roommate why the fuck would you pick a freshman? Shiro didn’t care what anyone else thought, and Matt understood, anyway, so that was the most important thing to him. Keith, however, was acutely aware of the looks he got in the hallways even if he tried his best to ignore them and remain aloof. He knew he didn’t deserve to be best friends with _the_ Takashi Shirogane; he didn’t need everyone else reminding him of that fact with every waking moment he spent at the Garrison.

Shiro grinned and looped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug and ruffling his hair good-naturedly. Keith hated how warm and safe that made him feel. He hated how it made him feel wanted, because he didn’t know how to deal with that kind of fuzzy feeling, especially not in the way Shiro tended to dole it out 24/7. The guy was a walking ray of sunshine and as much as it drove him nuts, he knew he couldn’t live without him.

“Nah, you love me. And you love that I boosted you onto that stage because you kept blushing every time you caught that guy staring at you.”

“I did _not_! Jesus Christ, Shiro, I’m not some schoolgirl from a shoujo anime.”

“But you _do_ speak Japanese and have long hair.”

Keith flopped onto his bed, covered his face, and groaned loudly.

“I _hate_ you!”

Shiro _cackled_. “Sure, buddy.” He threw Keith’s pajamas at him and they landed on the younger boy’s face.

\----

Three years passed and Keith couldn’t shake the azure stare of the one guy in this whole damn school he desperately wanted to avoid. Thinking about singing with the lanky cadet in his class with the charming grin and ocean gems for eyes… Keith was emotionally constipated from all his abandonment issues and a childhood full of loneliness and scars, and he really could not handle the load of feelings that came with imagining sun-bronzed fingers intertwining with his own, the heart lines in their palms pressed together and pulses synchronizing with only the stars as their witnesses.

At some point, the Garrison’s academic counsellor met with all the seniors at the academy to make sure everyone was on track to graduate and continue their chosen career paths. Keith figured it would be straightforward—he was going to be a pilot, he knew how to fly, and he’d train until he drowned in his own blood, sweat, and tears if he had to.

“Extracurriculars?” he balked. The academic counsellor sifted through a slim manila folder, nodding and humming to herself. Her blonde hair was swept back into a slick, severe bun.

“Yes, Kogane, extracurriculars. All Garrison cadets are required to fulfill at least one formal non-academic activity in order to graduate.”

“I participated in first aid and medical training every year,” he retorted. “And I did extensive certifications for martial arts, combat training, and weapons work. I even volunteered to help with the vehicles maintenance in the hangars!”

“All count as academic activities, Kogane. Except the last one, that was just free labour, to be honest.”

(Well, not entirely free… Professor Kolivan had paid Keith in hoverbike parts and he was getting extremely close to having an actual working craft in his possession.)

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered. The academic counsellor raised an eyebrow. His jaw clicked shut. He didn’t want to be written up for insubordination, not after he worked so hard to get here in the first place. He was just one year away from graduating, one year away from joining Shiro out in space. He could imagine much too vividly how disappointed Shiro would be if his dreams were dashed by something as stupid as a technicality because he couldn’t follow some rules, especially when he was _so close_.

He sighed. Shiro was an officer, likely to get his first real assignment any day now. He’d be off on some incredible mission in space, and Keith would be earthbound for at least two more years.

…And to add salt to the wound, he was required to do some bullshit extracurricular activity in order to graduate.

“So what are my options?” he asked bleakly.

“Well, the only activities that would still be recruiting and not yet at capacity at this point are the sports teams, the science club, and… oh! The school musical.”

It was just Keith’s damn luck that other cadets were apparently in the same position as him, and the sports teams and science clubs were all full by the end of the day. He groaned and let his forehead hit the door that boasted school musical auditions and sign-ups for stage management or other behind-the-scenes roles. He immediately put his name down for some prop stuff.

“Are you auditioning?” came a voice from his side. Keith scowled at the stupid piece of paper, wondering why it was the main obstacle standing between him and going out into space. This was so, so stupid.

“Um, no.”

The owner of the voice stepped into Keith’s line of vision.

Oh fucking shit. Could this day get any worse?

A dazzling grin assaulted Keith’s senses. The guy even smelled heavenly, like sharp sea salt and something slightly musky but also slightly floral, with a hint of sweetness that reminded Keith of mangoes.

Keith frowned reflexively. His pulse was running a mile a minute. He felt lightheaded. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? Why was this guy so hot? What the hell?!

“I was thinking of auditioning, but I have no partner. No partner means no duet.”

“Oh.”

The guy raised his eyebrow. Keith swallowed thickly.

“Oh?” he repeated. “You know, I really thought we made a good team. Remember that?”

Keith froze. His heart rate may have skyrocketed earlier but now it was basically going lightyears per second.

He opted to play dumb.

“Uh, sorry, but who are you?”

The guy leaned in. Keith cursed the heat cresting over his collarbones and rising into his face. “Uh, the name’s Lance? You know, your rival? Lance and Keith, neck and neck? But kinda awesome impromptu karaoke duet partners?”

Keith knew very well who Lance was. “Oh, I remember you,” he feigned mulling it over. “You’re that cargo pilot.”

This time Lance scowled. Something constricted around Keith’s lungs at the sight but he forced himself to take measured breaths. “Well, I just got promoted, asshole. I’ll be graduating with the fighter pilots.”

“Oh. Um, congratulations.” Keith figured he must’ve worked really hard to pull that off.

“We literally have all our classes together this year.”

“Uh, cool…?”

Finally, Lance seemed to have had enough.

“Are you gonna fucking sing with me or not, asshole?”

Keith coughed into his fist.

“Singing is er, really… not my thing. I don’t do stage stuff, I’ll just help out with building some of the props to get my extracurricular requirement and, you know, just… not do that ever again.”

Lance stared at him for a lot longer than Keith thought his skeleton had the structural integrity to withstand. Just when he thought he’d fold like a house of cards, Lance let out a “harrumph” and turned toward the door instead.

Keith almost let out a sigh of relief, but then Lance was storming off and he saw what the other had written on the sign-up sheet.

**Lance McClain and Keith Kogane – Monday at 15:20**

What the fuck?!

\-----

Curse his complete lack of impulse control around Keith Kogane! If only the other cadet wasn’t so infuriating and rude and holier-than-thou and _gorgeous_ …

Lance scowled hard into his cereal. Hunk paused in draining the milk from his own bowl as he peered over at his roommate.

“You okay there, buddy?”

Lance groaned and pushed his breakfast away, dropping his head into his folded arms.

“I have an audition for the musical,” he said flatly.

Pidge glanced over from where she was typing something furiously into her phone.

“Why do you make it sound like that’s the bane of your existence? I thought you wanted to be a part of it?”

Lance sighed loudly. He heard Pidge mutter something that suspiciously sounded like, “ugh so dramatic” but decided to let it slide because he just couldn’t deal with that kind of negativity at the moment.

“Well, I may have signed up for the duet auditions.”

Hunk sat up a little straighter. “With whom? Dude, did you manage to find a partner?”

Lance whined miserably. “No! I mean, yes. I mean, sort of? I don’t know. He doesn’t want to sing with me. What am I gonna do?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Pidge said, full attention now trained on Lance. “Who is ‘he’? Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?”

Lance just made some garbled noise into his sleeves.

Pidge smirked at Hunk over Lance’s head and their high-five resounded for a full three seconds in the air. Lance’s friends were the _worst_.

“I can’t believe you have a crush on the same guy who sang with you when you were fourteen and a pipsqueak,” Pidge cackled.

“Hey! You’re one to call anyone else a pipsqueak, pipsqueak!” Lance retorted indignantly.

Hunk rubbed a big soothing hand over Lance’s slumped shoulders.

“You said you signed up for the duet auditions though, right? So that means that he’ll be there.”

Lance leaned in toward Hunk a bit. “Uh, no… not necessarily. I wrote both our names down, but he could just… not show up.”

“Then it’d be a solo audition,” Pidge stated matter-of-factly. “It’s Professor Luxia running the show, so I don’t see her making a fuss over some idiot who doesn’t show up for an audition.”

“I really want this part,” Lance admitted. “I am sick and tired of being mediocre in everything I do, no matter how hard I try. So I wanna get this part, and I want this moment to be mine. I want to have my chance to shine.”

“I get that you feel like you’ve sort of been trying to live up to Keith’s prodigy status and shit, but stepping out of his shadow would kind of be easier if you didn’t try to audition with him…? Or am I just not understanding the situation here?”

Lance pouted.

“He’s just more pathetically in love with Keith than he is determined to beat him,” Pidge explained. Lance wished he could protest, but she was pretty much bang-on.

“Aw, Lance, it’s gonna be okay. Just show up for your audition and what happens, happens. Besides, Pidge wrote this musical—she should be able to pull some strings so at the very least, you can get one of the lead roles whether Keith shows up or not.”

Pidge pulled on her headphones and gave them both the thumbs up. Then she basically proceeded to ignore them as she rocked out.

Separating her from her music was a terrifying endeavor.

\-----

Monday rolled around and Lance waited just outside the auditorium, wondering if Keith would show up. Their audition time came and went, and finally, when the last duet exited the stage, Lance trudged along one of the aisles.

“Professor Luxia? I’m… I’m here to audition, too,” he said meekly.

Professor Luxia turned, her platinum hair pulled up into a severe-looking bun rather than cascading freely over her shoulders in soft waves. It made her seem way more business-like than Lance was expecting. He didn’t want to cower under her gaze, but he wasn’t doing a great job of maintaining his poise.

“McClain? You’re late, cadet. The auditions finished almost fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but—”

“Lance, this musical requires a lot of commitment. If you wanted to do a solo audition, you’re out of luck. And there aren’t any other duos to—”

“I’ll sing with him.”

Both Lance and Professor Luxia whipped around to the side entrance, where Keith was scuffing one of his feet on the red carpeting, hands fisted and white-knuckled around the strap of his messenger bag. His eyes were set on his toes.

“Kogane, you’re not the type to lack punctuality. Why did you miss your audition time?”

Keith met her eyes briefly, trying to portray the perfect, respectful student, but ended up speaking to the floor. “I was in a flight sim, ma’am.”

Professor Luxia clucked her tongue in disapproval. Keith seemed to deflate.

“Well, I’m sorry, cadets, but in the Galaxy Garrison we teach better principles than this level of tardiness. Perhaps you will get your acts together for next year’s musical.”

“I need this,” Keith said quietly. Professor Luxia’s movements slowed as she gathered her papers and folders from the desk in front of the stage. She sighed and gave the pile a final smack with the flat of her palm.

“I understand you are in a precarious situation, Kogane,” she said gently, though her voice was firm. “However, I cannot give any student preferential treatment just because they did not take the initiative to fulfill their requisite activities.”

She scooped the neat stack of papers into her arms and gave them each a nod on her way out.

Keith’s face appeared completely blank, but Lance could tell the other boy was devastated. As far as Lance was aware, not fulfilling your extracurricular grade requirements basically just meant you were held back a semester or something to fulfill the extracurricular with community service. It wasn’t the end of the world.

“Hey, man,” he started softly. Keith’s eyes flickered up to his. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m sure there are other extracurriculars you could do in the second semester and then over the summer to fulfill your graduation requirements. You’ll still be an officer at the same time as everyone else, right?”

Keith swallowed. Lance watched the way his throat worked and tried not to lick his lips.

“You’re… you’re probably right…”

“Oh _hell_ to the no,” Pidge shouted from one of the stage wings. Lance and Keith immediately jumped up over the stage apron to find her.

“Pidge? Are you okay?”

Pidge was sitting in the midst of a large pile of faintly smoking scrap metal.

“Rover just… combusted. Sorta,” she said, pulling her headphones off. “Dammit.”

Lance started sweeping her a clear path out of the rubble. Keith bent down to do the same. Their fingers brushed and Lance felt his breath stutter out of his chest. He turned to clear some more scalding metal with the side of his shoe.

“So how’d the audition go?” Pidge asked conversationally as she picked her way through Rover’s remains. Lance always wondered how she made all her robots and droids, experimented with them, and never actually got burned or anything when they blew up.

“We uh… we missed it,” Keith admitted, sounding remorseful.

“What?! How the fuck do you just miss an audition?”

“I was… um… in a flight simulation. To calm my nerves,” Keith said haltingly.

Pidge huffed. “This is my musical, asshole. Show it some proper respect!”

Keith tilted his head to the side, clearly (and adorably) confused.

“Your… musical?”

“Yeah, dipshit. Mine. I wrote the storyline and all the dialogue. So get your ass out there and sing the copyrighted songs that we have technically illegally incorporated in this incredibly low-budget script or so help me, I am going to kick your butt into next week.”

Keith, dumbfounded, just let Lance push him back out onto the stage. Lance hissed, “Just do as she says, it’s way less painful this way.”

Pidge fiddled with the sound system backstage and then suddenly an instrumental track was drifting through the speakers.

“Wait, seriously? This is the so—” he spluttered.

“SING, DUMBASS!”

Lance didn’t seem fazed in the least.

 

_Do you hear me?_

_I’m talking to you_

_Across the water, across the deep, blue ocean_

_Under the open sky_

_Oh my, baby I’m tryin’_

Keith had been haunted by that voice—its rich, smooth timbre and lilting notes—for the last three years. He stumbled into the next verse, but his voice steadied as soon as an intent blue gaze locked on him.

 

_Boy I hear you_

_In my dreams_

_I hear you whisper_

_Across the sea_

_I keep you with me in my heart_

_You make it easier when life gets hard_

 

Pidge clapped for them, and Keith had to admit that it felt pretty good. The performing aspect of singing would never be his thing, but the way Lance was grinning at him like he’d just done something _brilliant_ … well, that was something he could maybe get used to.

 

_Lucky I’m in love with my best friend_

_Lucky to have been where I have been_

_Lucky to be coming home again_

 

Many of the instructors at the Garrison talked about how Keith was born to fly, as if his hands were specifically sculpted to grasp the controls of an aircraft and his heart took its very first beat knowing exactly how far it would plummet before it soared. But in this moment, Keith would have given up all the stars painting the vast stretches of the heavens to fit his harmony around Lance’s melody.

“Kogane, McClain: you have a callback.” Professor Luxia’s severe bun disappeared from the auditorium doorway by the time either of them had even registered her voice.

Pidge let out a loud whoop and punched them both pretty hard in the shoulder. Keith rubbed at the sore spot but he had the most endearing little smile on his face.

Lance couldn’t quell the bubbly feeling in his gut for the rest of the day. There was a spring in his step that just wouldn’t quit; it felt like being on top of the world with zero fear of falling.

It felt like flying.

\-----

Rehearsals for callbacks were painfully unproductive at first. Keith surprised them all by bringing his own guitar to their first meeting; he shrugged and explained that it used to be his mom’s. He didn’t offer any other information and had that blank expression that meant that stream of conversation was over.

They spent three hours a week bickering and nitpicking at each other’s performances (“Oh my God, find your key, asshole!” “If you stopped jumping onto the melody from the harmony, this wouldn’t be such an issue, cargo pilot!” “Bite me, Mullet!”) to the point that Pidge eventually just put her headphones on and tuned them out. After three weeks, she finally ripped the headphones off and tossed them with frightening accuracy at their heads.

“Okay, listen up you idiots. How about you stop making moon eyes at each other and actually fucking learn this song?”

Keith glared so intensely at Lance from the corners of his eyes that Lance could almost feel a sunburn-like sensation over his cheek.

“Lance keeps forgetting the lyrics.”

“You keep picking a new goddamn key with every verse!”

“I’m trying to match you!”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of that, now are you?”

“Fuck you, Lance!”

“No, fuck _you_.”

Keith slammed his hands down on the table and pushed out of his seat abruptly, causing the poor chair to topple over in the wake of his wrath.

“I was perfectly happy to build shit behind the scenes, but you signed us up as a duet for auditions. Of fucking _course_ we’re not allowed to sign up for both onstage and backstage responsibilities,” he seethed. “In order for me to keep my scholarship I have to graduate this year, and thanks to you, that hinges on whether or not we make it through these stupid auditions.”

Lance’s features fell and he averted his eyes. “I… uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know your scholarship was at stake.”

Keith pulled back, looking a little frazzled that he had just blurted out so much personal information. Pidge watched him carefully school the set of his mouth to a cool, neutral line.

“You wouldn’t have—it’s not your fault. Let’s just get through this, okay?”

Lance nodded, obviously subdued.

The rest of the rehearsals actually went much smoother after that. Sure, Lance and Keith were still not on the best terms and their tentative camaraderie was rocky for the most part, but slowly their jabs and digs at each other became less snappish and ill-tempered and more like inside jokes.

“ _Keith, stop riding the melody when you’re supposed to be on harmony_ ,” Lance sang instead of the actual lyrics to the song, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“ _I’m working on it, McClain_ ,” Keith sang back, lips curling upward just slightly at the corners.

Pidge rolled her eyes.

“You know, you guys could actually _try_ to get this shit done,” she said dryly. “Keith, Lance is right—you are slipping into the melody on the first two lines of the chorus. And Lance, you… how do you _still_ not know which verse comes first?!”

Lance winked at her.

“Keith keeps distracting me with his dulcet tones,” he mock-swooned.

Keith capped off his water bottle after a brief sip. “I’ll try to keep my innate sensuality to a minimum,” he deadpanned.

Lance cackled.

\-----

“So how are the practices going?” Shiro mused from his desk, watching over the edge of his textbook as Keith stepped into their dorm room and started toeing off his shoes.

“Fine,” Keith said shortly. Shiro was used to Keith’s monosyllabic responses and smirked, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose slightly with the end of his pen.

“Oh, just ‘fine’?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Just like how you secretly think Lance’s legs look ‘fine’ in his very much non-uniform skinny jeans he wears after hours?”

Keith dropped his backpack at his feet and spluttered a bit, gesticulating in short, sharp jerks of his hands as he struggled to find the words that might keep him afloat in his massive sea of denial.

“What? You— _Takashi_ ,” he huffed, exasperated.

Shiro chuckled. “It’s okay, Keith, your secret is safe with me.” He mimed zipping his lips and throwing away a key. Keith narrowed his eyes at him.

“I hope you got rid of that zipper tag thing for good so you can never open your mouth again,” he groused.

Shiro winked at him and Keith absolutely did _not_ blush because it reminded him of Lance’s wink earlier that day.

“There are other ways to show your affections, you know—”

“ _Shut up_ , Shiro!”

\-----

“Kogane?”

Keith’s head shot up and he saluted primly, mentally running through his meticulous routine from the night before. He had definitely pressed his uniform into pristine, crisp pleats and he didn’t have a single thing on his person that was not regulation, so what could Commander Iverson possibly want with him?

“Yes, sir?”

Commander Iverson gave Keith a top-to-bottom once over that made him break out in a cold sweat. “At ease, cadet.” Keith stopped saluting but his posture did not relax in the slightest.

“Dr. Holt would like to see you in his office.”

Keith swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes, Sir. I will report there right away, Sir.”

“See that you do, cadet. As you were.”

If Keith told Shiro later that night that he went to Dr. Holt’s office like it was no big deal, well, that would be a giant lie that Shiro did not buy for a single nanosecond. Keith was basically an anxious wreck as he made his way down the hallway, fists clenched at his sides to stop his hands from shaking but it only served to make his palms even more slick with clammy sweat. Other cadets watched him go by, and he carefully avoided their curious stares. Some whispered nasty things that he could hear in brief snatches as he passed, but he did his best to ignore them. It was better to seem stoic, aloof, even cocky so long as he didn’t appear weak or leave himself vulnerable. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

He slipped through the doorway and saluted stiffly. “Cadet Kogane, reporting, Sir—I mean, Doctor. Sir.”

Keith winced internally. Why was he so awkward?

Dr. Holt was a tall, slim man in his mid-to-late fifties. He wore round spectacles that always made it look like his eyes were twinkling with mirth. Keith wished he could do one of Pidge’s eyerolls at how well Dr. Holt fit the kindly-older-teacher-man cliché.

“Oh, Keith! Hello, son. How are you doing today? Please, no need for that kind of formality here, my boy. Take a seat.”

Keith nodded and perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of Dr. Holt’s large mahogany desk. It was quite the intimidating piece of furniture. Keith’s spine was ramrod straight and he could feel the sweat beading along his hairline at the nape of his neck. His throat felt too tight and suddenly the air was too thick to breathe.

“Thank you, Si—Doctor.”

Dr. Holt smiled kindly at him and leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his desk with his fingers interlocked in front of him.

“Would you like a tea or coffee, Keith? Or perhaps some freeze-dried peas?”

Keith politely declined. Who the hell ate those Styrofoam-like vegetables when they were earthbound? 

“Who the hell eats those Styrofoam veggies when they’re earthbound, Dad?”

Keith startled as another voice approached from behind him. He coughed weakly into his fist to try to stifle his embarrassment at being so obviously high-strung.

Another cadet who Keith recognized as Pidge’s brother Matt slouched into the seat next to Keith’s. He almost looked like he was going to rest his boots up on Dr. Holt’s desk but shot Keith a sidelong glance and thought better of it.

Dr. Holt chuckled heartily. “Those food scientists do know how to preserve a good vegetable,” he said. Matt made a gagging noise.

Wait, did Pidge’s brother just call Dr. Holt ‘Dad’? Keith cleared his throat nervously.

“Um, Si—uh, Dr. Holt, Sir? If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly am I here for?” Hopefully that didn’t sound as squeaky to the Holts as it did to him. (Oh, right, Matthew Holt. The ‘Dad’ thing would make sense then. Why hadn’t Shiro ever mentioned this? He and Matt were best friends...)

“Ah, right. Well, now that you’re both here, I suppose we could get started.”

Matt perked up a bit in his chair.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Dr. Holt waggled his eyebrows and Matt shot up with a whoop of excitement.

“YES!”

Keith was rooted to his seat as Pidge’s older brother did a little dorky victory dance next to him.

“Um—?”

“Keith, right?” Matt asked. Keith nodded slowly. Matt thrust his hand forward and Keith shook it, still dumbstruck.

“Shiro’s told me so much about you,” Matt gushed. Keith nodded again, not sure if he could really do anything else at this point. He silently cursed Shiro for not doing much talking about Matt, because that would’ve been helpful.

“And your teachers have quite a few things to say as well,” Dr. Holt chimed in. He tilted his head down a bit to peer at Keith over the top rims of his glasses. “But most of all your test, simulation, and practicum scores speak volumes.”

“Thank…you?” Keith twisted his fingers in his lap. The Holts were being weird and cryptic.

Matt suddenly clapped Keith on the shoulder and the younger boy turned wide purple eyes on the blonde.

“You’re gonna pilot our mission to Kerberos!”

The room went silent (or maybe it was just all the blood crashing in Keith’s ears drowning out the rest of the world for a few seconds).

“What?” Keith whispered intelligently.

Matt laughed in the way that comes from some deep well of joy in his belly, and Keith found himself helplessly smiling back.

“Congratulations, cadet. You have been selected to be the pilot for the Kerberos mission, accompanied by myself and my son.”

“…Me?”

Matt’s grin was wide and warm. Keith was still numb with shock.

“Yeah, you. Jeez, Shiro’s stories never made you sound so dense—”

“Matthew!” Dr. Holt said sharply.

“Heh, sorry, I mean… I mean, you _do_ know what the Kerberos mission is, right?”

Keith nodded quickly, throat working around words that hadn’t had a chance to form on his tongue yet. Everyone knew about the Kerberos mission. All the cadets waxed poetic about how they wished they could be a part of it. Keith _dreamed_ about the Kerberos mission, having his first opportunity to fly for real and actually find out what it’s like in _space_ …

“Why me?” he asked quietly. He still couldn’t feel his face. Was he smiling? Was he crying?

“You are the best pilot this academy has ever seen,” Dr. Holt explained patiently, crow’s feet crinkling kindly by his eyes as he smiled. They branched like constellations, each representing years of happiness, wisdom, and hard work.

“But… but I’m just a cadet. The mission departs this summer and I haven’t even graduated yet. We’d have to start training soon, and—and what about Shiro? He’s more qualified than I am, this should be his mission. I—”

“Technically those things are true, yes, but we have had several council meetings and the Garrison command has agreed that your final semester can be deferred one year, including your scholarship, so we can complete this mission. It’ll only be a few months, you will have some time off once we get back to get re-accustomed to earth gravity and timelines, and then you’ll graduate after winter exams.”

“And Shiro is one of the other pilots we considered,” Matt explained, “but he’s an officer now, and hence it’s actually… erm… it’s cheaper to take you since you’re still a cadet.”

Keith was reeling. His entire world had been flipped upside-down, thrown into zero gravity, and thoroughly just… fucked up.

“Thank you,” he finally said after the Holts stared at him expectantly. He was going to need some time to process this. “I… um, I would love to accept this, more than anything in the world, but I…”

“Take some time to think about it,” Dr. Holt said gently. “We absolutely understand that you may have other commitments, and even though this is a phenomenal opportunity, there will be others.”

At the mention of commitments, Lance’s face sprang unbidden to Keith’s mind. His throat felt like it was constricting when he thought about missing the musical, especially after they’d put so much time and effort into practicing and preparing for the callbacks, which were happening in two weeks.

“Not like this,” Matt muttered under his breath. Keith bit the inside of his lip but pretended he didn’t hear.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Holt, Sir. I am infinitely honoured and grateful.”

“At ease, cadet. Let us know your final decision by the end of the month.”

Keith had two weeks until the callback auditions, and three weeks until he had to decide if he was going to fulfill one of his greatest dreams in space or if he was going to chase after one of his heart’s deepest (but most reluctant) desires—blue eyes, dark sun-bronzed skin, and the voice that filled his soul.

\-----

One thing Keith would never get used to about institutions packed with youth was just how fast news could travel. In the orphanage, it was mostly rumours or benign things like who had been caught doing what and how severe their punishment from the nuns would be, but at the Garrison it was like bombs setting off untameable wildfires everywhere Keith went.

“Did you hear? Kogane was picked to pilot the Kerberos mission!”

“No way, he’s just a cadet. He won’t even be an officer by the time they deploy!”

“I heard he turned them down!”

“What a total douche—who the fuck turns down the chance of a lifetime? People would _destroy_ him for less than that opportunity.”

“Why would the Garrison pick that hotshot, anyway? He’s not as great a pilot as they think. He’ll probably crash and kill them all.”

Keith hunched in on himself as he sped through the halls with strides as long as his legs could manage.

He shuffled into the empty classroom as quickly as he could, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Pidge, strangely, wasn’t there. Lance was sitting on the windowsill, staring aimlessly out at the sky. Keith felt the pang of apprehension spear him in the throat.

“Hey,” he croaked out, choking the greeting past the rapidly rising anxiety in his windpipe. Lance didn’t react for what felt like a whole heart-stopping minute.

Finally, his blue, blue eyes (putting the clear October skies to shame) flickered over to him. Keith wanted to shrink under the intensity of the other boy’s scrutiny.

“Hey.”

Lance’s voice didn’t hold any of its usual spark and cheerfulness; it was flat and frosty and felt like ice crystals needling their way through his veins.

Keith swallowed back the urge to either flee or fling himself at the other boy, both of which would be entirely inappropriate. He settled for crossing his arms tightly over his chest and leaning back against the door slightly, praying it would keep any unwanted prying classmates out.

“So, I uh… I heard about Kerberos.” Lance broke the silence bluntly, and Keith felt the impact as a blow to the breastbone. He wished he could pull in a breath to _say something_ but it felt like his entire chest had caved in under the force of it.

“Congrats,” Lance said, quieter. He stood up from the windowsill and dusted off the back of his uniform pants. “I guess there’s no point in practicing anymore,” he murmured, stooping to shoulder his backpack. “See you around.”

He walked up to Keith until they were almost toe-to-toe, but Lance used his few extra inches of height to look straight over the top of Keith’s head like he wasn’t even there. Keith’s body betrayed him and stepped aside to let Lance breeze past, walking out the door like a zephyr and leaving behind a similar chill.

“Wait, Lance—!”

Keith threw himself out into the hallway but the Cuban boy had already been lost in the sea of other cadets, most of whom had turned to peer at Keith as if he were a fascinating rock specimen from a meteor shower. He felt the telltale prick of tears behind his eyelids and bit his tongue hard to rein in the sob building in his throat.

Lance was already gone.

\-----

“Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?” Shiro asked, head tilted a bit to the left as he tucked his shoes into a neat line with the rest of their footwear.

Keith shook his head miserably and resumed staring a hole into his aerospace dynamics assignment, which he had been doing for the last hour and a half. He wanted to blame the blurriness of his vision on eyestrain but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t will away the tears making his sight swim.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispered. He threw his jacket onto his bed and leaned over the back of Keith’s chair to wrap his arms around the younger boy’s shoulders in a suffocating hug. Keith knew that Shiro would be kind enough not to point out the salty stains on his sleeves.

“Listen,” Shiro said after a moment, when Keith’s eyes were a touch drier, “I know this maybe isn’t what you need to hear right now, but Dr. Holt talked to me about Kerberos today.”

Keith stiffened in Shiro’s arms, and the elder immediately tightened his hold. “No, I said listen. Keith, you need to know that you deserve this. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime—hell, it’s all you’ve talked about since you got here. This is your dream, and if it’d make you happy then you should go for it.”

“I can’t,” Keith confessed shakily. “I can’t do this, Takashi.”

“Yes, you can. You’re the best pilot we’ve got, even if you’re an insufferable brat.”

Keith pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “What about you?”

Shiro pulled back a little to look at Keith’s face, but the younger boy didn’t pull his hands away. “What about me?”

“This mission should be yours,” Keith mumbled into his wrists.

Shiro chuckled. “No, it was offered to you.”

Keith didn’t reply to that. Shiro frowned.

“Is there something you want to tell me about Lance?” he finally asked.

Keith slumped even further into his chair.

“No. Maybe? …Yeah, I guess.”

Shiro smirked but tried not to let Keith see it.

“I just… what if… what I thought I wanted isn’t what I think I want anymore?”

“Are you trying to tell me you’d pick your duet partner over your first space expedition?”

Keith’s lips thinned into a white line and Shiro cleared his throat. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, Keith, if your heart’s really in it.”

Keith groaned. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. He barely tolerated me before, and now he’s got no more reason to put up with me. I may as well be on Kerberos now for all he cares.”

Shiro hummed and moved to sit on Keith’s bed.

“You know, Dr. Holt asked me to be your back-up, in case you turn him down. He said he got the sense that you had some unfinished business to attend to.”

Keith’s head shot up in alarm for a moment, but then he just covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Ugh, Pidge fucking told him, didn’t she?”

Shiro stifled his smile as much as he could. “Well, she might’ve dropped some strong hints…”

“What am I going to _do_?”

It was silent between them for a moment before Keith felt something nudge his thigh. He turned his head and saw Shiro smiling softly at him, pressing the curve of his guitar’s body against his leg.

“You could get practicing.”

\-----

“You know you can still do the callback as a solo, right? I’m sure Professor Luxia would understand.”

Lance poked at his food, scooting a floret of broccoli (or at least he thought it was broccoli) from one end of his mostly-full plate to the other.

“I guess.”

“Come on, Lance, you can’t mope about Keith forever,” Hunk chided, elbowing Lance in the side. His best friend just swayed with the movement and kept fiddling around with his fork.

“I’m not _moping_ , Hunk.”

“Dude, you’re like, pouting. Seriously, the whole bottom lip wibbly thing and everything. You gotta cut it out, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Aw, Hunk, why you gotta make me feel bad about feeling bad?”

“Because I love you and want you to be happy, my man.”

Lance sighed and finally popped the soggy vegetable into his mouth. “I love you too, buddy,” he said around his mouthful.

He swallowed and his insides still felt like lead.

Learning about the Kerberos mission secondhand was tough—while he and Keith weren’t as close as Lance kind of hoped they’d be by now, they were at least _friends_ , right? And friends told friends about incredible life-changing stuff like going to one of Pluto’s fucking moons before graduation. Lance had valiantly fought down the immediate envy and feelings of inadequacy so he could practice telling Keith how happy he was for him, saying “Congrats, man!” over and over in the mirror until it looked natural and genuine. He was actually happy for Keith, even if there was a confusing mixture of “but why not me?” and “four months is a long time with no means of contact” and “I hope he misses me” sloshing around in his brain.

At first, Lance gave Keith the benefit of the doubt. There was the entire rest of the week before their next rehearsal, and he figured that rumors made their way across the grapevine faster than Keith would actually be able to tell him in person. But when their rehearsal rolled around and Keith hadn’t said anything, Lance’s patience wore extremely brittle.

Then the other boy had the audacity to walk into their practice room like nothing even happened, twenty minutes late. Lance had waited but clearly it had been a waste of his time.

“Congrats,” he said coldly, because to show any more emotion would be to admit defeat.

Keith’s stupidly pretty purple eyes were wide and his lips were pale and trembling when Lance walked up to him. He thought for a second that maybe Keith would try to stop him—maybe Keith thought he was worth it.

But then, like every time Lance let himself stand upon a pillar of hope, he came crashing down with the disappointment.

Keith stepped aside like there was no reason to stop him.

Lance stormed away with a gaping chasm in his chest where he thought his heart was supposed to be.

\-----

 

_I just want you close_

_Where you can stay forever_

_You can be sure_

_That it will only get better_

_You and me together_

_Through the days and nights_

_I don’t worry ‘cause everything’s gonna be alright_

_People keep talking_

_They can say what they like_

_But all I know is everything’s gonna be alright_

“Did Keith Kogane actually take my advice for once?”

Keith absolutely did _not_ let out an almost-squeak and jump out of his skin.

“What the _fuck_ , Shiro?! Could you knock or something? Jesus!”

Shiro smirked as he pulled off his hoodie and flung it in the general direction of his wardrobe. Keith scowled at him.

“So I have to knock on my own dorm room door? Is that even a thing?”

“Yes! It’s definitely a thing called common decency, you asshole.”

“Keith, I think you’re overreacting. Why are you so wound up about this?”

Keith opened his mouth to retort with something snarky but came up short. His mouth clicked shut and he settled for an angry glare.

Shiro shook his head and flopped onto Keith’s bed beside the spot where his roommate was seated with one leg tucked under the other and his guitar on his lap.

“It’s just practicing, right?” Shiro prodded Keith’s calf with his socked foot hanging off the edge of the bed. He threaded his fingers together behind his head as Keith strummed out a few chords.

“Yeah. Just practicing.”

Shiro closed his eyes and listened to Keith play a few more chords, humming along with the younger boy’s voice as he started to softly sing along.

“I told them I can’t take the mission,” Keith said without preamble.

Shiro didn’t open his eyes but his lips stretched into a smile.

“Well, then you’d better hurry up and keep practicing. I really hope he makes you happy, Keith.”

Keith didn’t even bother trying to deny anything. He just cleared his throat and playfully kicked at Shiro’s leg.

“Aren’t the one who told me patience yields focus?”

“…You’re an insufferable brat, and if you don’t tell him you’re head over heels in love with him then I’m going to spell it out for him so big in space it’ll be a new constellation for eons.”

“I hope Kerberos is so cold it renders you infertile. I can’t imagine having to deal with your hellspawn in the future.”

“Okay, well, that escalated quickly. I’m gonna shower and go to bed.” Shiro chanced a ruffle of Keith’s hair, and as expected, the younger boy swatted his hand away violently.

Later, when Shiro had settled under his blankets, he heard Keith go over the chorus of his song for Lance one more time.

 

_No one, no one, no one_

_Can get in the way of what I’m feeling_

_No one, no one, no one_

_Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you_

_Can get in the way of what I feel for you_

 

He smiled at the ceiling. He had been quite worried about how Keith would do if he was alone for the several months he’d be away on the Kerberos mission, but it seemed like that might not be an issue.

\-----

“So basically he’s gonna sing him a song and try to woo him?”

Shiro nudged Matt in the ribs with his elbow. His best friend choked a bit on his mouthful of commissary instant ramen noodles.

“Try not to give Keith such a hard time. Making connections with people has never come easy to him.”

Matt snorted into his mostly-MSG-broth.

“He lives in a shack in the desert during his summer breaks, Shiro.”

“He doesn’t exactly have a _choice_ , Matt.”

Matt slurped up the last noodles in his Styrofoam cup. “You’ve offered every year…”

Shiro frowned. It was true, and Keith politely turned him down every time.

“And he could always stay at the Garrison, right?”

“He can’t afford to stay here during the summers, his scholarship doesn’t cover that.”

“You know as well as I do that most of the faculty here would have been happy to take him on for a summer internship.”

“And I have told you a million times over that Keith would rather not have to answer to authority for any longer than he has to. He’s like a caged bird here, Matt. He’s more brilliant than anyone even realizes.”

Matt blew a little on his thousand-percent-of-his-daily-intake-of-sodium and drank most of it in one bulging mouthful. “But he’s gone and turned down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove this abundance of natural talent to the world and to make leaps and bounds in our knowledge of extraterrestrial life to date because of a _boy_.” His tone was bitter but not unkind. “Man, if someone offered me my dream on a silver platter I wouldn’t think twice about being on that ship within ten seconds.”

“That’s you, Matt,” Shiro chuckled. “The rest of us will have people on Earth that will miss us while we’re gone.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Shirogane,” Matt laughed, tossing his empty ramen cup at Shiro’s head. His best friend batted it away with a disgusted expression.

\-----

Keith’s hands shook as he stood outside Lance’s dorm room. He held up a fist to knock, taking a deep breath and trying to count to ten in his head.

His guitar felt impossibly heavy on his back—he couldn’t really sleep for the past few nights, so he just slipped out onto the Garrison’s roof to practice after Shiro was tucked in and the night patrol wouldn’t notice he was skulking around past lights out. He hoped that Lance would actually be in his room, because he hadn’t the slightest clue where to find him if he wasn’t.

“…let it go,” Keith heard someone say from behind the door. His fist froze a few millimetres away from the door’s surface.

He swallowed thickly, leaning closer to listen even as dread coiled heavily in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, and in his mind he knew he should just walk away, but something (perhaps his own masochism) kept him cemented outside Lance’s door.

“I’m fine,” he heard Lance’s voice say airily. “You guys are right, I should probably focus less on this musical and more on my pilot training. Besides, Keith was just—”

Keith sucked in a breath that felt like acid in his lungs.

“—a distraction. He’s going to Kerberos and I probably won’t even notice while he’s gone.”

Keith couldn’t breathe. His lungs and guts turned to ice and his frozen heart shattered. He dragged himself through the shards to get away from that goddamn door.

“Wow, Lance, you’re not even gonna miss him?” Pidge asked, her voice just barely piercing the veil of numbness enshrouding Keith’s mind.

“Nah, why would I?”

Keith swiveled and ran. He should have stuck to pushing people away before they had a chance to make him feel like this, like he was choking on all those jagged pieces of his heart that exploded up into his throat. Eventually, the numbness would creep in and suffuse every cell in his body, but until then, all he could feel was _pain_. Keith let the anger flood through all the holes punched out of him, because anger was hot and familiar under his skin. He was mad at Lance, and at himself, because dammit he should’ve known better.

People could _hurt_ you. That was why he had gone to such lengths to avoid them before.

He scrubbed furiously at the tears spilling over his cheeks with his sleeve because he never gave them permission to fall.

He couldn’t remember how he got back to his room, but Shiro had immediately pushed him onto the elder’s bed and curled up around him with his arms locking Keith’s to his sides. The tears had stopped coming but Keith’s hands were trapped close to his face and they wouldn’t stop trembling. It took him a long time to realize that the ragged breathing pressing against his eardrums was his own, and the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely was Shiro’s vice-like hold on him and the warm point where the officer’s forehead was pressed between two knobs of his spine between his shoulderblades.

Thankfully, Shiro knew him so well that he could count the minutes that they lay in silence until Keith’s body inevitably gave out on him and he was finally still. He carded his fingers through the younger boy’s hair and softly ran the backs of his knuckles against the salt-stains on his cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered into the crewneck collar of Keith’s civvies sweatshirt. “You’re going to be okay.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He listened to the small hitches in Keith’s breathing for the rest of the night, soothing the tension in the younger’s face by running his fingertips in light circles at the small of his back.

\-----

Word really did travel disgustingly fast in the halls of the Garrison. By the day of the launch, there were already billions of rumours swirling through the social grapevine and occasionally Keith caught a whispered theory that the Holts had changed their mind about taking a temperamental loose cannon into space as their pilot, or that Shiro had pulled rank on the junior cadet to take his place. Keith didn’t have any emotion to spare on the falsehoods spread by his classmates. He didn’t feel much other than cold nowadays, and was mechanically going through the motions of attending his classes, completing his assignments, studying for tests, and logging hours upon hours in the sims. Shiro had tried to fuss over him already, but nothing changed. Keith couldn’t afford to slow down, because then he might _feel_ , and he couldn’t handle feeling anything at this point.

At some point, Pidge had approached him to ask about the callbacks—she awkwardly skirted around the fact that Lance was planning to audition as a solo, but still offered to rehearse with Keith. Unfortunately, that meant that he might run into Lance, since she was also practicing with him, so he politely but firmly declined and steered absolutely clear of her. He did arrange a solo callback with Professor Luxia, who had this unreadable look in her eyes that Keith avoided by staring at his hands folded together in his lap for the majority of the meeting.

“Is there anything you need to talk about, Keith?” Professor Luxia asked quietly as Keith was standing to leave.

“No Ma’am,” Keith responded robotically, spine straightening and chin lifting from muscle memory.

Professor Luxia frowned. Keith hoped she would let it go.

“I’m here to chat with you if you need it, Keith,” she offered magnanimously. Keith nodded and saluted her rigidly.

“Thank you, Ma’am. May I be dismissed?”

She scrutinized him for a moment longer. He focused intently on one of the degrees hanging on the wall behind her.

“Yes, you are dismissed. Thank you, Keith.”

\-----

“So he’s not going to Kerberos, then?” Lance mused as he played with a dumb fidget toy one of his sisters had sent with his mother’s last care package. He was sprawled on his back on Hunk’s bed, even though his was only a few steps away. Hunk was seated at his desk, poring over a thick textbook to make sure he had all the formulae for spacecraft acceleration locked down for his unit evaluation the next morning.

“Guess not, bud,” Hunk replied absently.

Lance huffed and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one of his elbows to stare at Hunk as he studied.

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

Hunk’s pencil paused, hovering over his notebook as he looked up at Lance.

“I dunno, man, I feel like if he didn’t tell you he got the offer, maybe he wasn’t planning on going at all, and didn’t think he’d have to tell you anything?”

Lance cursed at the universe because Hunk’s logic kind of made sense, and made him seem like the bad guy in the Keith-Lance situation that was not really a situation but much more of a… neutral, non-relationship fiasco.

They were silent for a few seconds, lost in their own thoughts, before Lance finally asked in a small voice, “Should I… uh, should I ask him about singing with me again then?”

Hunk sighed, closed his eyes, and purposefully pressed his pencil into the centerfold of his notebook.

“Lance, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Lance frowned.

“Why not?”

“You said so yourself: you need to focus more on piloting, keeping your grades up, and let this musical be what it’s meant to be—an extracurricular.”

“But what if—”

“No, Lance, you have already come so far in trying to get over him, okay? You don’t need to take any steps backwards here.”

Lance must’ve looked like he was about to protest, because Hunk pushed out from his desk and walked over to sit near the foot of Lance’s bed.

“Lance, I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore. This whole thing about Keith messed you up, man! Need I remind you that you tried to make him notice you for the first year of classes, and he didn’t recognize you as anything other than a cargo pilot when you coerced him into singing with you?”

“I didn’t _coerce_ —”

“Yeah, man, you did. I’m sorry, but I think maybe you guys are just really not meant to be together.”

Lance thought back and begrudgingly had to agree. He and Keith were at each other’s throats most of the time, and their first few rehearsals were awful because they consisted of fighting for three hours straight, and then they started to fall into a comfortable rhythm and work together and _fuck_ , they made a damn good team.

He pressed the heels of his hands to the crests of his cheekbones and choked on a repressed sob. Hunk leaned over and rubbed his back comfortingly.

“Fuck,” Lance whispered, voice heavy with tears. Hunk hummed sadly in agreement. “Fuck.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Lance, you’ll see.” Hunk gathered Lance and all his lanky limbs into a snug hug. “You’re gonna be okay, you’ll see.”

Lance hiccupped weakly and did his best to smile, but it was wobbly at the edges. Hunk wordlessly massaged the back of his best friend’s neck.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Hunk.”

“You are.” Lance gigglesnorted and swatted at Hunk’s thigh. The Samoan boy chuckled. “I love you, man.”

“Love you too, you big lug.”

\-----

The date of the Kerberos mission launch ended up getting pushed up a few months earlier than originally planned since Shiro didn’t require most of the additional training scheduled, and weirdly the fates were aligned so a spacecraft was cleared for their use.

“Behave yourself while I’m gone, okay?” Shiro said lightly, but his words fell like anvils in the pit of Keith’s stomach. He wished he didn’t have to look Shiro in the face, yet he couldn’t help trying to memorize every line of the elder’s face to maybe stave off the lonely silence on Shiro’s unoccupied side of the dorm room. The officer’s hand was a familiar weight on Keith’s shoulder, warm and reassuring, and the shroud of apathy that had hung over Keith’s head for the last month evaporated as he desperately catalogued the moment. He wanted to feel the sense of home that Shiro exuded once it followed him to one of the furthest reaches of the galaxy.

He was able to resist pressing his cheek against the back of Shiro’s hand, and soon the spell was broken when Shiro let his arm drop. He offered his right hand instead, and Keith readily grasped it, feeling the burn behind his eyelids and the spasm in his throat, and he told himself he wouldn’t cry (at least, not until after Shiro was out of the atmosphere). Shiro used their clasped hands to yank Keith into a tight embrace, his other hand folding to cup the back of Keith’s head and he leaned his cheek against Keith’s. Keith inhaled sharply and held his breath, keeping the scent of Shiro’s clean hair in the bottom lobes of his lungs, tucked away to help him breathe when the world tried to crush him in the coming months.

“I’ll be waiting for you to get back,” he mumbled into the line of Shiro’s collarbone.

“I know. I’ll be back before you know it. You just keep your nose in your books and your heart out in the stars and you’ll be my copilot on the next mission I’m assigned.”

Keith sniffled ruefully. Fuck. He didn’t want to let himself do this.

“You’re a cheesy asshole,” he said, voice drenched in tears. Shiro laughed into the small ponytail where Keith gathered his hair and Keith never wanted to forget the sound of that laugh, even if it was also diluted by a half-sob.

When they finally pulled away (Matt yelling, “What is the hold up, Shirogane?!” from where his family had just finished embracing and taking approximately twelve billion photos), both of their faces were wet and their noses were running and it was gross but it was perfect.

“I’m… I’m going to miss you, Takashi.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, kid.”

Keith frowned without any real malice. “Don’t call me kid, old man.”

“I’m never going to stop believing in you, Keith. You are going to make it through this, and I’m never going to give up on you.” He reached forward and held Keith’s face in both his hands. “Don’t you dare give up on yourself.”

Keith sniffled and let Shiro rest their foreheads together.

“You’d better come back in one piece, Shiro.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

\-----

It had only been a month since the earlier-than-anticipated Kerberos launch, two weeks before the rescheduled callbacks, when Lance heard it on the news.

The Kerberos mission failed. The newscaster dispassionately stated that it was a tragedy, and that it was unlikely that there were any survivors, and that they were chalking it up to “pilot error”. It made Lance nauseous—Takashi Shirogane was one of the Garrison’s best and brightest, and there was barely a snowball’s chance in hell that _the_ Takashi Shirogane would botch this mission and cost his entire crew their lives.

Understandably, Pidge was a mess. She didn’t shed a single tear, but she became obsessed with finding out what _really_ happened out there, because she also didn’t believe that Shiro could have screwed up so monumentally. If her dad and her brother were out there, she was going to find them.

Hunk was steadfastly supportive, and was there to cart her to bed when she fell asleep on her laptop (the screen was open to some confidential files but he would just close it and tuck it into her bag), force-feed her at least three times a day, and make sure she called her mom every night. It was appalling that the Garrison failed to inform Pidge and her mother about the mission before the news broadcast it to the entire world.

(Lance called his family the day they heard about the Kerberos mission—they were safe, thank God, and healthy and happy and they missed him, as always. He teared up as his siblings fought for the phone, and his dad said, “You’re making us proud, _mijo_ , but you need to take care of yourself!”)

Lance did his best to be a pillar for Pidge, and that took up about ninety-five percent of the time he wasn’t in classes or studying. The musical was postponed to the fall semester of the following year in light of the tragic events.

He wasn’t too busy, however, to notice the glaring absence of the silent, looming presence Keith had been since the mission launch. The dark-haired cadet didn’t show up to any of their classes, and the sim log showed he hadn’t clocked a single hour since the mission was announced as a failure due to pilot error. He was never in the mess hall, no one at the commissary had seen him, and Lance had maybe tried knocking on his dorm door to try to check in on him but there was no answer.

Finally, Pidge caught a glimpse of unkempt dark hair swept into a messy ponytail and dark bruises underneath dull purple eyes atop hollow, pale cheeks. She described him as a skittish specter, and Lance felt his intestines tangle into a huge knot. Pidge resumed hacking into all the files she could find that seemed even remotely related to the Kerberos mission.

Turned out that Keith must’ve been doing the same thing (but in a much less refined manner), because Lance next saw him two weeks later being dragged out of one of the professors’ offices by the collar of his wrinkled uniform.

“Gather your personal effects, cadet. You will be escorted off the premises at eighteen-hundred hours and if you set foot on Garrison property again, you will be charged for trespassing.”

“You have to keep looking for them,” Keith snarled, seemingly unfazed by his clear expulsion. “You know as well as I do that the mission didn’t fail! There’s no evidence of pilot error, Shiro wouldn’t—”

“Shirogane is _dead_ ,” Commander Iverson spat sharply, and Keith recoiled as if struck. Lance’s heart ached for him. His hair was a little longer than it was before, thrown into a sloppy ponytail like Pidge had described, and his uniform was reminiscent of a deflated balloon on his slight frame. His face was flushed with red blotches of rage, but was otherwise paler than Lance could recall.

“He’s not!” Keith bellowed. “He can’t be. He _can’t_!”

Keith’s resolve seemed to crumble at that, and he dissolved into a limp puddle between the two security guards that held each of his arms, the fight bleeding out of him in a tremulous exhale. His eyes were dry but glassy.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss, cadet,” came a much gentler voice, and Professor Luxia quietly stepped out of the office. Keith didn’t even flinch or acknowledge her. He stared listlessly straight ahead.

Lance watched as they dragged Keith away, the boy’s legs trailing for a few paces before he stumbled to get them underneath him and forcefully shook off the security guards. They released him but maintained only a few feet of distance between them and the teen in front of them.

As soon as they rounded the corner, the whispers started. The voices built like a spark igniting a wildfire.

“Did you just see that?”

“Kogane just got canned!”

“So much for the best pilot of our generation, huh?”

“That cocky bitch deserved it.”

“Finally got knocked off his high horse, ugh.”

Lance bit his lip to hold in the angry retort he wanted to throw at one of his male classmates that made a particularly nasty remark about the nature of Keith and Shiro’s relationship.

Keith needed him a lot more than Goldson needed Lance’s fist to his stupid grimy face, but it was definitely a slim margin. Lance took off in the direction of Keith’s room.

By the time he skidded to a halt, Keith already had one suitcase and a backpack set by the open door and he was sitting on the floor, staring at something. Lance rapped his knuckles against the doorframe, praying he’d find the right thing to say once Keith acknowledged his presence.

“I have fourteen more minutes,” Keith said flatly, not bothering to look up. Lance coughed awkwardly and took a hesitant step into the room. He noted that both beds looked pristinely made, even though Keith’s appearance was not maintained at the same standard. He frowned—had Keith slept at all in the last week?

“I’m… I’m not trying to make you leave,” Lance said softly. Keith’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto Lance’s. Lance felt a pang stab straight through his chest, lodging uncomfortably between his ribs and making it difficult to breathe.

Keith stared blankly for a few more seconds before returning his attention to what Lance realized was a photograph cradled reverently in both his hands.

“I’m… I’m almost done,” Keith said, and it was a clear dismissal. Lance refused to take that hint.

“Listen,” Lance said gently, approaching Keith like he would approach a spooked animal or other such major flight risk. “You’re… I can’t imagine how badly you’re hurting right now, but you are hurting and it’s okay to break a little, alright? You don’t have to keep it together for anyone else’s sake.”

He expected Keith to be angry with him, to throw a punch or to bark at him to get the fuck out, but instead the fingers at the edges of the photograph began to shake until the shiny rectangle eventually fluttered down to the floor between Keith’s feet. The smaller boy curled inward to press his forehead against his knees and he grasped his hair in his tightly clenched fists. Lance watched the small elastic holding Keith’s hair slide free and tumble onto Keith’s shoulder. Pale knuckles squeezed down against Keith’s skull in a futile effort to stop the shaking, ivory skin interrupted by inky strands that curled slightly at the ends.

Lance gingerly untangled Keith’s fingers from his hair, and the smaller boy immediately yanked his hands back to clutch at his forearms, tucking his knees close to his chest. His fingernails scrabbled at his skin deeply enough to draw blood. Lance opted to place his hands over Keith’s instead, and felt his grip into his arms loosen minutely. It was enough for now.

“Hey, you can fall apart, I’ll be here for you. No one will know.”

There was a moment of stillness wherein Lance thought he’d missed his chance to get through to the boy sitting next to him, but then the tremors grew in amplitude until Keith was shaking with violent sobs that he tried to hold in with his palms. Lance warily circled his arms around the other boy’s shoulders and drew him in closer, trying to broadcast his actions as much as possible so Keith always had the option to pull away. To his surprise, Keith leaned into the cradle of Lance’s rib bones to cohabitate with the fragile racing of the Cuban boy’s heart.

Of course, fourteen minutes was up way too soon and the guards arrived to collect Keith and his meagre belongings. Lance tucked the photograph into Keith’s jacket pocket, but not before sneaking a guilty peek.

It was a picture of a younger Keith, distrust evident in the furrow of his brows, a guarded look on his face but open wonder in his eyes as a young Shiro grinned wide and carefree at the camera with one arm slung loosely around Keith’s shoulders. They were in what looked like one of the Garrison’s barracks, the outline of a small hovercraft behind them.

As Keith walked away, Lance clung to the feeble hope that he might look back. However, no matter how thoroughly Keith had been destroyed by his loss, he still held his head up proudly and did not hesitate as he was escorted out the doors of the Garrison for the last time.

If Lance ended up sitting alone in the abandoned room filled with Shirogane’s ghost and the remains of Keith’s broken heart, well, no one could blame him.

He’s not sure what compelled him to look under Keith’s pillow, since the entire bed was made with sharp military corners and was so meticulous, but he did. There was one more photograph that Keith had left behind, perhaps on purpose or perhaps by accident—Lance would never know.

It was a really poor-quality photo, likely taken on a cellphone and printed with a regular colour printer instead of a proper photo printer. It was from the night of the welcome party, and even more shockingly, it was a picture of Keith and Lance on the makeshift stage, singing into their microphones and staring into each other’s eyes like there was nowhere else they could possibly want to look.

Lance choked up when he saw it, and held it close to his chest for every step it took to get him back to his own room.

\-----

No one heard from Keith by the time the second semester ended and the summer break began. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge took on summer internships that began a week into the holiday period, and all spent their time either training or in their respective labs (well, for Lance it was more sims rather than a lab, but whatever).

Pidge, of course, also staunchly refused to give up on her quest for the truth about the Kerberos mission, working tirelessly at uncovering any footage she could of the landing site. It had become disturbingly clear that the Kerberos failure was not a result of pilot error, but she still couldn’t figure out why the crew went MIA. At least her initial crazed fervor had cooled somewhat and she was eating and sleeping semi-regularly, since being her caretaker had taken a considerable toll on Hunk, who was constantly exhausted. On weekends, he would sleep for nearly twenty hours straight for the two days before he could get back to his regular functioning.

In the meantime, Lance worried. He wondered where Keith ended up, if he even had a place to stay, how he got there… he wondered how he was doing, and what he was up to. He would ask around as often as he dared, trying to keep up an air of casual curiosity, and fortunately Pidge and Hunk were too distracted with their own concerns to berate him for obsessing over Keith, whom most of their classmates had dubbed “the washout”. (That nickname kind of stung whenever Lance heard it, because he knew it held no truth; Keith had been expelled for trying to fight back against a system that was adamant about giving up on maybe the one person Keith lowered his defenses around. To Lance, there’s no other way he would’ve wanted to be sent packing, either.)

Eventually, there were a few rumours about Keith living alone out in the vast stretches of desert that surrounded the Garrison, and Lance really, honestly hoped they were just rumours. It didn’t stop him from wanting to investigate further.

Friday nights were when most summer interns would head home for a few days, if they were within a reasonable radius to the Garrison. Lance’s family was a whole continent away, so he knew that wasn’t an option for him, but technically the Garrison staff didn’t know that, so he signed out with the other cadets. Once he was outside the Garrison walls, he realized he didn’t really have a plan—was he really going to wander the desert until he stumbled upon a campsite or something? What the hell was he even looking for? What would Keith be living in?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Even a crazy pilot like you wouldn’t be able to fly to Cuba in less than six hours on any craft you’re partially licensed to operate,” Hunk said with an edge of teasing in his tone.

Lance scoffed. “Don’t you know what they called me in my cargo classes?” He offered his friend a genuine smile. “The tailor, because of the way I—”

“—‘thread the needle,’ yeah, yeah, we get it,” Pidge interjected, rolling her eyes. “You’re not subtle, Lance. We know you’re trying to find Keith out in this vast pile of nothingness.”

“Well, I…”

“…and we couldn’t let you do this kind of dangerous crap alone, man! I mean, were you going to try to find Keith on foot? That’s ridiculous.” Hunk gesticulated widely with his broad hands.

Lance hung his head. “Uh, yeah, so I maybe didn’t figure out the fine details—”

“Lucky we got you covered then, huh?” Pidge said with a wink, brandishing the keys to a hovercraft. Lance’s eyes probably bugged out of his head.

“What?”

Hunk laughed and clapped Lance on the back. “You up for a mini road trip? Or like, sand-dune expedition? Or… whatever?”

Lance grinned. His friends were the best.

“I CALL SHOTGUN!”

“NO, SCREW YOU McCLAIN!”

\-----

Keith was actually not as hard to find as they anticipated. Hunk had devised a grid method for combing the desert for any inhabitable areas, and they happened upon a small, isolated little shack several kilometres away from the Garrison. There was a shiny red hoverbike latched onto the side of the shack and mostly covered in a weathered beige tarp.

Lance knocked on the sheet-metal door, wincing at the clanging sound it produced.

There was a shuffle of movement from inside, and Lance met Hunk and Pidge’s eyes, trying to silently communicate that if the inhabitant of this shack was not Keith but rather a serial killer or psychopath, they’d immediately make a run for it and leave no man—er, person—behind.

Fortunately, it was Keith that answered the door, hunched in on himself and looking small, exhausted, and wary. His eyes widened comically when he realized who had decided to make a house call out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Lance?” he breathed, his voice sounding like sand shifting in the wind. Lance took in just how thin the other boy looked, how deeply the purpling beneath his eyes seemed embedded in his skin.

“Hey,” Lance said, mouth suddenly just as dry as their surroundings. “Can we come in?”

Keith stared for a moment, blank, and Lance was really beginning to despise that look on Keith’s face. But then the dark-haired boy stepped aside to let them in.

“I know we haven’t really met yet, but I’m Hunk, Lance’s best friend and roommate,” Hunk said, offering his hand. Keith accepted the handshake briefly but pulled away slightly sooner than what would’ve been socially acceptable. Hunk didn’t let it show on his face. Pidge gave Keith a nod that Keith reciprocated.

“I um… I really was not expecting any guests,” Keith croaked, and Lance wondered just how unused the other boy’s voice was. “I have… I have some water, if you want. There are a few glasses in the cupboard above the kitchen sink.”

He disappeared into the dim lighting of the small shack, and Lance, Pidge, and Hunk slunk into the kitchen quietly. The curtains were drawn and only a bit of the intense blaze of sunlight filtered through, so the internal temperature of the shack was not as excruciatingly hot as it was outside.

There were no dishes in the sink. Everything was neatly packed into the small cupboards. There was nothing on the table pushed into the corner of the small kitchen area, and a quick peek in the very compact refrigerator revealed that there were only a few apples of questionable freshness in the tiny crisper.

Lance frowned and ducked into the living area, separated from the kitchen by a makeshift hanging curtain. Keith was sitting at a desk against one of the walls, scribbling furiously on top of a sheaf of paper. On the wall in front of him was what looked like a corkboard straight from a detective movie or a cop show, complete with coloured yarn connecting various hand-sketched pictures, maps, photos, and names of what were probably places.

A small yellow sticky note caught Lance’s eye.

' **It’s killing me when you’re away** ' and ' **Patience yields focus** '

He tore his gaze from that note and its suspicious water stains.

“What… have you been working on out here?”

Keith looked up and there was finally a gleam of life in those beautiful violet eyes, like Lance remembered from before Kerberos.

“There’s something out here, Lance,” Keith whispered. It seemed like he had forgotten that his voice could reach volumes above a breath. “I… I don’t know what it is, or if it will give me any answers, but I have to find it.”

It sounded obsessive and concerning and all Lance wanted to do was shove some food into Keith’s face and put the poor boy to bed.

“Okay,” Lance said. “But whatever it is, it’ll still be there after you take a nap. When was the last time you actually lay down to sleep?”

There was a moth-eaten blanket thrown over the sofa on the opposite side of the room, and it was wrinkled and tossed aside as if had been recently used. Lance hoped it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

His eyes snagged on one more thing near that sofa.

Without asking permission (which he probably should’ve done), Lance walked over and picked up the guitar. There was a thin layer of dust on it, but it was otherwise in good condition despite its journey across the desert from the Garrison.

He strummed out a few chords, and Keith watched him, puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

“Put your pen down for a second and come over here.”

“Why?”

“Just… just do it, please? Keith?”

Keith’s lips pulled down into a frown but he slowly obeyed. Lance valiantly refrained from saying anything as Keith swayed with every step toward the sofa.

“Lie down, okay?”

Keith’s brows were drawn together in confusion. He looked completely worn-out and run down, and Lance suspected that if he’d had any rest at all he probably would’ve been trying his best to keep his distance. The shorter boy sat on the edge of the sofa and watched Lance for any signs of encouragement before tucking his legs up onto the threadbare seat and lay back. The sofa was small enough that Keith had to bend his knees and curl up a bit on his side to fit. Lance lay the blanket over him, trying not to pay too much attention to the twilight eyes tracking his every move. Then he settled onto the arm of the couch with the guitar in his lap, biting on his lower lip in concentration.

He strummed out a few more experimental chords before he settled into the feeling of strings beneath the pads of his fingers, which had long since lost their callouses since he left his guitar at home in favour of bringing all the regulation equipment for his classes and his training.

 

_Yes I do, I believe_

_That one day I will be where I was_

_Right here, right next to you_

_And it’s hard, the days just seem too dark_

_The moon and the stars are nothing without you_

 

Keith’s lashes fluttered like landing butterflies until he just couldn’t keep them open, and Lance kept singing to him softly until the lines between his brows smoothed over and his confused frown relaxed into the slackness of sleep.

 

_Your touch, your skin, where do I begin?_

_No words can explain the way I’m missing you_

_Deny this emptiness, this hole that I’m inside_

_These tears they tell their own story_

 

He inhaled and held the breath as he carefully replaced the guitar to its original resting place, trying his best not to disturb the sleeping boy. He settled down on the floor beside the sofa, resting his chin on his folded hands to watch the even rise and fall of Keith’s chest beneath the blanket.

 

_You told me not to cry when you were gone_

_But the feeling’s overwhelming, it’s much too strong_

 

He pulled the photograph he pilfered from Keith’s vacated dorm room and placed it on top of the chest behind him. He noted that the suitcase Keith left with sat behind yet another makeshift curtain, likely separating the living room area from the bedroom.

Lance didn’t know for sure, but he had a strong suspicion that the suitcase contained all of Shiro’s belongings left on Earth and hadn’t been opened since the day Keith stepped out of the Garrison’s confines.

 

_Can I lay by your side?_

_Next to you, you_

_And make sure you’re alright_

_I’ll take care of you_

_And I don’t want to be here_

_If I can’t be with you tonight_

\-----

Keith woke feeling groggy and heavy. He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he was reasonably certain that since he hadn’t woken himself screaming that there weren’t any nightmares.

( _His mother’s hand on his tiny face, gripping her wrists with both of his chubby hands and begging her not to leave and he hears her say, ‘I’m sorry, little one. I love you_ ’; _his father’s back as he walked out the door asking him, five years old, if he had any last requests for his trip to the store, and then four days of lonely silence and a social worker with a fake smile introducing herself and telling him there was an accident_ ; _Shiro’s tearful laugh into the nape of his neck, hugging him so hard it hurt (probably more like clinging to each other than hugging), morphing into a blood-curdling scream with a screech of metal and a splatter of blood across broken glass—“pilot error”…_ )

He blinked once, twice, three times for good measure, before finally sitting up. He was a bit sore in some places from curling up on the couch, but he shook it off as best he could, rolling toward the edge to stand up, but his hand encountered something warm and soft.

It was a hand with flawless bronze skin, and he pulled back immediately. Bizarrely, the hand was connected to a person half-on the floor and half-slumped over the side of the sofa, head pillowed on their likely numb arms.

“Lance?” Keith whispered, wondering if this was his mind playing tricks on him like the desert mirages convincing him that there was something he had to find out there.

Except Lance stirred, and groaned, and as soon as he moved his shoulders popped and Keith winced in sympathy. Sea blue eyes met Keith’s, and for a moment, nothing was said.

“Good morning,” Lance murmured, voice like gravel. He rubbed some sleep grit away from his eyelids. “You sleep okay?”

Keith had no idea how to react, or how to answer that question. He had no idea why Lance was even there, if this was real, and what he was supposed to say to him; when he opened his mouth, the grating sensation at the back of his throat reminded him of all the pieces of his broken heart embedded there.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered bluntly.

Lance didn’t look put off in the least. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

Lance’s features screwed up in a combination of exasperation, frustration, and maybe a little bit of fondness?

“Because someone has to look out for your stupid ass while Shiro’s still missing.”

Keith quickly looked away as if the reminder of Shiro’s absence caused him physical pain. Lance grimaced at the looseness of his verbal filter, but hoped that his refusal to acknowledge the officer’s likely demise in space helped to soften the blow somewhat.

“Why you?”

Lance tapped his fingers against his elbows with his arms crossed. “Well, not just me, I mean… Hunk and Pidge are asleep on the floor over there.” He gestured vaguely with one of his hands and Keith peered over the edge of the sofa. Curled up on the floor near the front door were Pidge and a big guy that Keith didn’t recognize but assumed was Hunk.

“No, I mean… why did you even… I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.”

Keith had his arms wrapped around his middle defensively, like he was attempting to hold himself together. He let his head dip forward so his hair obscured Lance’s view of his face.

“What? Why would you think that? I thought singing together for weeks was equal to quality bonding moments!”

“You said so yourself. You said you… wouldn’t even miss me.”

“When did I—oh.” Lance felt all the indignant denial rush out of him in a gust of air that left him winded. His chest hurt as he tried to reinflate his lungs. “You, uh, you… heard that?”

Keith nodded minutely, still looking away from Lance.

“That was… that was me reacting to finding out that you were going to leave me—I mean, you were going to leave the Garrison for bigger, better things. It was one part bitterness that you never said anything about it and I only knew because other people were talking about it in class, another part, well, envy, because _of course_ I’d never get offered something incredible like that, and a last part of, um,” he swallowed audibly, “just plain butthurt because I thought we were _friends_ , at least?”

Lance sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t I deserve to know?”

Keith had finally turned to look at him.

“You… of course you did, I was just stunned after I received the offer, but… but I didn’t plan on taking it.”

Lance huffed out an incredulous bark of laughter. “Oh God, Hunk must’ve been right!”

Keith hadn’t the faintest clue what he was talking about.

“Huh?”

Lance waved him off. “Nevermind. Why were you insane enough to turn down the opportunity of a lifetime?”

Keith dropped his hands into his lap and twisted his fingers together nervously. He watched his skin blanch under the pressure to avoid meeting Lance’s gaze.

“I wanted to sing with you,” he admitted very, very quietly.

Lance’s entire world slowed to a grinding halt. “What?”

Keith sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “I wanted to sing with you, okay? If I went to Kerberos, I would have missed the stupid musical… ugh. Not that any of it matters now.”

He stood up abruptly, and Lance caught his wrist to stop him from stalking away.

“I’m so… I can’t believe you wanted to give up Kerberos for me.”

If Keith had dared look Lance in the eye, he would’ve seen the way twin seas shimmered with awe in the early daylight. As it was, he pulled his wrist out of Lance’s grasp.

“It should’ve been me that got lost out there,” Keith said stonily, “and if… if Shiro and the Holts really did die, then their deaths are on me.”

“How can you—?”

“Don’t you get it? It was supposed to be me out there, and if anyone would have screwed up, it would—should—have been me suffering the consequences, not Dr. Holt, not Matt, and not Shiro. Whatever happened… it’s my fault and I have to take responsibility. That’s why I can’t give up and pretend that the Garrison’s “pilot error” bullshit is real.”

“It’s not your fault, though,” Pidge said earnestly from where she was now sitting crosslegged on the floor. Hunk was still breathing evenly beside her.

Keith recoiled as if stung. “Pidge, I’m so sorry, I wish—”

“It’s not your fault,” Pidge repeated, cutting him off harshly.

Keith’s pale lips trembled slightly and he clamped his teeth down on them. Lance watched him cross his arms and tuck his hands against his ribs to contain their shaking as well.

The taller boy reached out both hands and placed them on Keith’s shoulders. Tension thrummed in every line of muscle beneath his fingers.

“Hey man,” he said, “whatever it is you’re looking for out here, let us help. You don’t have to do this alone. You never have to be alone again.”

Lance wished that Keith would just let it go like he did for that stolen moment in the room he was forced to leave behind. He wished that this stubborn asshole would just crumple, let his legs fold under him and just cry out all the sadness and guilt and hurt and even the betrayal he refused to let himself feel and kept repressed behind a crazed search for God-knows-what out in the middle of the desert. Lance was sure Shiro would have promised to come back, and even though Keith didn’t want to blame him, that promise was broken.

“But…”

“My family’s out there too, Keith. And so far every file I could find on the secured Garrison servers have been dead ends. All my leads so far have come up dry. If whatever you’re looking for out here might give us some answers, then I want in.” Pidge stood up, her face alight with conviction.

 Keith still looked uncertain, but there was something swirling in the depths of his eyes that just might have been hope. Lance gave Keith’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” he said with a smile, “I really hope you have some food in this godforsaken shack that isn’t just the ancient apples in your fridge.”

\-----

For the next several days, they aimed to follow Keith’s catastrophic mess of a conspiracy board (which is what they called it, even though Keith bristled and stated that it was just how he organized his clues and it certainly was NOT a “conspiracy board”), until one night they arrived after classes and Keith was nowhere to be found.

“Keith?”

The shack was empty. Lance saw that there was a pile of papers haphazardly strewn across the desk, looking like they had been sifted through in an increasingly frantic manner.

“Uh, Lance,” Pidge said from a few feet away in the kitchenette, “what do you think Keith wanted to with a MacGyver’ed bomb?”

“What the fuck?!”

Hunk was poring over a jumble of random scrap metal and what definitely looked like the plans for an improvised explosive device.

“These all have a remote detonation mechanism,” Hunk mused as he examined various aspects of the schematics. “And it looks like they can be strung together to go off in rapid succession. What does Keith want with this?”

“They’re too small to blow up the Garrison,” Pidge snorted. Lance gaped at her, stricken.

“Keith’s not a terrorist, oh my God,” he squawked.

“No, of course not,” Hunk muttered, flipping the large, creased sheet of paper over. There were scribbles on the other side in Keith’s handwriting that got progressively less legible. “But they’re enough to cause one hell of a distraction.”

“Decoy explosions?” Lance asked at the same time that Pidge said, “For what?”

They piled back onto the hovercraft that Pidge stole from the Garrison’s garage and tried to find Keith.

\-----

When the bombs went off, it made it a lot easier to find Keith. They followed the deafening roar of the explosions until they could see the smoke overhead.

They were shocked to see a small building (thankfully untouched by the bombs, which had been planted a significant blast radius away to prevent any casualties) nestled in the sandy landscape. They navigated around the bombs and saw Keith’s hoverbike still engaged nearby as a flood of personnel with the Galaxy Garrison insignia on their uniforms moved toward where the bombs had been planted to investigate. Hunk killed the hovercraft’s engine and they clambered into the otherwise unmarked building, though judging from the architecture and the uniforms it was definitely a Garrison facility.

They picked through a path of unconscious personnel that lead them to a large room where they could hear the smacking of flesh colliding with flesh and heavy thuds as people presumably went down. There was a crash of metal against metal, and they pushed into the room.

There were a few people in full white suits laying on the ground or slumped against the walls, out cold. And there was Keith’s stupid jacket and stupid mullet, pulling a bandana off of the bottom half of his face and leaning over a body strapped down onto some weird metallic slab table.

“Shiro?” Lance heard the wobbly whisper. His focus snapped to the body on the slab.

Keith pulled a knife out of nowhere and cut the thick leather straps holding Shiro’s chest, hips, and legs down to the table. The smaller boy stumbled a bit trying to get himself under one of Shiro’s arms.

“Nope, no you don’t, no no no no no, nuh-uh, you are not going to try to rescue Shiro like this,” Lance protested immediately, rushing to Shiro’s other side and hoisting a… oh God, was that a metal prosthetic or just a huge mechatronic gauntlet? He shuddered at the sight of gnarled, ragged scar tissue meeting the seam of metal.

Keith glared at him but staggered a little under Shiro’s weight, so when Lance redistributed Shiro’s bulk (was Shirogane always this freaking ripped? Jesus Christ… this guy was Lance’s hero, sure, but not a literal Superman hero…), he heard a small grateful sigh escape Keith’s lips.

Pidge yelled at them urgently, “We’d better get out of here if we don’t want company! They’re on their way back!”

“And they do not look happy!” Hunk added.

Hunk made a weird strangled noise of panic. Keith and Lance half-carried, half-dragged Shiro out of the building. Hunk’s wide eyes met Lance’s in a blind panic when the engine of their stolen craft sputtered weakly. Of all the time to run out of gas!

Keith didn’t even pause before he was hastily dumping Shiro onto his hoverbike. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk didn’t waste another second before piling on behind him.

“Is this thing gonna be big enough for all of us?” Pidge asked dubiously.

“No,” Keith said shortly through gritted teeth, but he gunned the ignition anyway and they peeled out of the area with some Garrison vehicles in hot pursuit. Keith wove around the hovercrafts ahead with seamless curves and twists that left Lance’s heart thudding against the inside of his esophagus. It would’ve seemed reckless and stupid if Keith didn’t make it so goddamn breathtaking.

Pidge clung desperately to Shiro’s chest to prevent him from slipping off. “Why do I have to hold this guy?” she complained, because of course Pidge had no sense of appropriate banter during a chase scene.

“Big man, lean left!”

Lance watched Hunk squeeze his eyes shut and oblige, and they banked sharply.

“Oh man, I think Mr. Harris just wiped out Professor Montgomery. That was them, wasn’t it? Oh, no, no, he’s fine.”

“Big man, lean right!”

They swerved and the hovercraft caught itself on a nearby rock ledge. Some of the Garrison vehicles tumbled after them, but a few managed to keep ticking.

“Guys, i-i-is that a cliff up ahead?” Hunk stuttered out, knuckles deathly white in their grip on the back of Keith’s hoverbike. Lance was surprised that his fingers weren’t leaving dents in the metal.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Lance yelled while Pidge shouted, “Oh hell no!”

They continued to scream as Keith leaned closer to the body of his bike, thighs tightening around it.

“Yup,” he said simply, and for the first time Lance saw a gleam like a madman in Keith’s eyes, and he finally understood what everyone meant when they said Keith was born to fly. It was awesome, and beautiful, and terrifying to see Keith in his element like this.

But mostly terrifying.

They shrieked as Keith took them plummeting over the edge of the cliff.

“What are you doing?” Lance squeaked as they continued in a nosedive toward certain death, “You’re going to kill us all!”

“Shut up and trust me!” Keith barked, and somehow he pulled a miracle out of his ass and righted them smoothly. Lance was speechless.

They didn’t say anything else until they arrived back at Keith’s shack. Hunk helped Keith get Shiro inside, and Keith carried Shiro the rest of the way in to set him down in the likely bedroom that the rest of them had yet to enter. Lance watched Keith’s feet move from underneath the bottom edge of the separating curtain as the other boy rearranged Shiro and pulled off his boots, which he set neatly against one of the walls.

Keith stopped moving for a minute, and then he trudged back out. Lance saw a glimpse of Shiro lying on a small, beat-up old mattress before the curtain swayed back into place.

Speaking of swaying, Keith looked unsteady on his feet now that the adrenaline had run its course. He lunged for Keith as the shorter boy’s knees buckled and gave out underneath him, folding like a shitty poker hand into Lance’s arms. Lance managed to hold him somewhat upright for the few seconds it took Hunk to help him with their collapsed comrade.

“How the hell did he know where that place was?” Pidge wondered aloud as Lance and Hunk shoved a limp Keith onto the sofa and covered him with the blanket. Lance frowned—he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Keith had foregone sleep in order to zero in on the Garrison facility they had just broken into and then escaped.

Lance shrugged. “How did he know Shiro was in there? These are all questions that would help clear up a lot of shit, Pidge.”

Hunk groaned and tucked his legs beneath him to sit on the floor.

“Someone grab me a water bottle? I think all my limbs are jelly right now.”

“After experiencing Keith’s driving firsthand? I’m with you, buddy,” Lance griped. It was truly the most frightening, incredible, amazing thing he’d ever felt. He still had a buzz of ecstatic energy coursing through his veins.

They eventually piled onto the floor beside the sofa and passed out.

When they woke up the next morning, both Keith and Shiro were specks outside the window. Keith was standing with his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, and the wind whipped their hair around their faces. Pidge was tearing through all the information she could possibly dig up on the facility they had just essentially ransacked (did they steal Shiro or…?) and her face was set in monstrous determination. Lance suspected that she wouldn’t even notice if he went streaking right in front of her.

Hunk, on the other hand, had his head in the fridge and was mumbling to himself.

“Whatcha up to in there, dude?”

“I’ve been slowly stocking up Keith’s fridge with actual food, so I’m just trying to figure out what I can do to feed us all.”

Lance clapped a hand onto Hunk’s back.

“You are a god among men, my dude.”

Hunk grinned at him as he pulled some stuff out of the fridge and closed it with a bump of his hip.

\-----

Less than twenty-four hours later they were in space, entrusted with a mission to become defenders of the entire universe, and when it really came down to it, they were still just kids and they were tired and they were afraid.

A few days in, Lance sought Keith out, finding the other boy in his room. The door swooped open and Keith looked up in alarm, hastily sliding something under his pillow. If Lance hadn’t watched his hands so carefully he would’ve missed the movement altogether; he cleared his throat and chose not to comment on it.

“So uh… about those musical rehearsals,” he said, trying to keep his tone cool and level. Keith bit his bottom lip and raised an eyebrow.

“What about them?”

Lance let his eyes dart to the space beside Keith on the red paladin’s bed, and Keith gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He sauntered over in deliberate strides so if Keith wanted to stop him he could. Keith didn’t move, so Lance plopped down beside him.

“Think you’re still gonna slip into the melody?”

Keith looked flabbergasted for a tick or two, but a small smile slowly spread across the horizon of his mouth.

“I won’t if you can remember the order of the verses,” he challenged.

“You’re on.”

Lance tapped out the beat on his thighs and counted them in. “5, 6, 7…”

 

_When I look into your eyes_

_It’s like watching the night sky_

_Or a beautiful sunrise_

_Well there’s so much they hold_

_And just like them old stars_

_I see that you’ve come so far_

_To be right where you are_

_How old is your soul?_

It started with the mice—they tumbled in through the vents or something, and settled themselves across Lance and Keith’s laps as they sang. One even tucked itself into the loose curl of Keith’s half-fist.

Then the door slid open and Pidge wandered in, followed by Hunk and Allura pulling in a bewildered Shiro, and tailed finally by Coran, eyes wide and delighted.

 

_Well, I won’t give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I’m giving you all my love_

_I’m still looking up_

 

No one interrupted them, and Keith looked like he wanted to flinch away from the sudden uninvited crowd that had gathered in his room, but Lance rested his hand over Keith’s wrist and kept him in place. Their eyes met and Lance smiled like he did the first time they ever sang together, and the rest of the universe melted away until all Keith could see was blue.

\-----

When Shiro and Keith returned from the Trial of Marmora, Allura bit off her words and Keith hung his head. Lance quickly grabbed Keith’s non-bloody shoulder and steered him into his room. He didn’t give Keith a chance to protest or even question what he was doing as he dug out the box of medical supplies sequestered in each paladin’s storage cabinet and motioned for Keith to peel the suit away from the jagged edges of torn flesh.

The red paladin hissed through his teeth when the antiseptic liquid first made contact with the wound but he didn’t pull away.  Lance hummed softly, hoping to mitigate the pain with distraction. 

 

_And when you’re needing your space_

_To do some navigating_

_I’ll be here patiently waiting_

_To see what you find_

Keith’s face was unguarded, a raw expression of disappointment, guilt, and tentative hope blooming across his features. Lance kept singing, hoping Keith would take him up on the offer (he did).

 

_‘Cause even the stars, they burn_

_Some even fall to the earth_

_We’ve got a lot to learn_

_God knows we’re worth it_

_No, I won’t give up_

“You know you’re no different to us, right?”

Lance watched the bob of Keith’s throat as he swallowed and the quick dart of his tongue to wet his chapped lips.

“I’m one of them, Lance. I’m the enemy.”

Lance sighed and fastened the thick layers of gauze to Keith’s shoulder with some medical tape.

“Just give Allura some time—she’ll come around.”

Keith stood and went for the door, pausing after it slid open.

“Thank you,” he whispered, so softly Lance almost thought he had imagined it.

“I won’t give up on you,” Lance whispered back.

Keith looked back at him; it was so unlike the first time, when Keith left the Garrison with no intention of returning. This time, there was a line of tears glimmering like a constellation along his lower lashes and the tiny upward quirk of his lips.

“Thanks, Lance.”

Then he was gone.

\-----

“Matt told us about the hot-headed stunt you were trying to pull out there, you idiot,” Lance spat, crowding Keith into the red lion’s hangar. Keith didn’t put up much resistance and let Lance push him against one of Red’s giant forepaws with a firm hand splayed over his sternum.

“It was the only way to break the—”

“That is bullshit, Keith,” Lance seethed. “Pulling a kamikaze move might be okay with the Blade of Marmora, but Voltron needs you. Why don’t you get that?”

“I… Voltron needed those shields down, and it was the only way I could think to do it!” Keith finally met Lance’s blazing glare with one of his own. “It was one life for countless others. That’s a win in my books.”

“Then get some new fucking books,” Lance ground out. “We were falling apart without you, and nothing’s been the same since you left. Fuck, Keith, I wish I had the balls then to tell you that you couldn’t leave, but—”

“But I still would’ve gone!” Keith cut him off. “I couldn’t stand being a spare Black Paladin, okay? You did the math before—”

“—and you told me to leave it to Pidge.”

Keith ignored him and barreled on, “—and the bottom line is that Voltron needed you, and Shiro, and I was just… I had to do something.”

“Keith, buddy, trust me when I say that I know what it’s like to be a seventh wheel—”

“A what?”

“—a seventh… you know what I mean! I know what it’s like to feel like an extraneous part, but you… you made me realize that I have a place and a purpose here, okay? You made me feel important.”

“You _are_ important,” Keith said, nonplussed.

“So are _you_ ,” Lance replied, emphasizing with a harsh jab of his finger to Keith’s solar plexus.

“I… there was no other way,” Keith argued weakly. “We can’t count on Lotor to randomly save us at the last minute. This is war, and sacrifices need to be made.”

“Good leaders need to know when to make those sacrifices, Keith,” Lance said, releasing some of the pressure pinning Keith to Red’s paw, “but they also need to know when those sacrifices aren’t worth the repercussions.”

He held Keith’s gaze for a few seconds longer than he would normally be comfortable with, and both felt a rumbling in their cores that they instinctually knew was Red’s purr of approval.

With a sigh, Lance fully removed his hand from Keith’s chest and held out his pinky finger.

“You gotta swear you’re not going to do any more stupid suicide missions,” he said seriously.

Keith shook his head.

“I can’t promise you that.”

Lance’s nostrils flared in frustration.

“Then swear to me that next time, you’re gonna try a _lot_ harder to find another way out.”

Keith eyed his pinky before slowly linking it with his own.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Pinky swears are legally binding to every corner of the universe, jerkwad. You’d better not renege on this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Keith said with one of his familiar smirks.

Red suffused them with a feeling of warmth and pride—she was not at all conservative in showing them her approval of this turn of events.

“Fuck, I should’ve asked you this all those years ago,” Lance said as soon as they dropped their hands, a slight blush creeping across his cheekbones. The air stuttered out of Keith’s chest.

“Keith, can I kiss you?”

Keith was stunned for a moment before he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Lance grinned at him wolfishly before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of Keith’s neck and yanking him forward to meet his lips, which were soft and smooth and didn’t taste like salt and blood the way Keith’s did.

It was perfect.

“Fuck,” Lance panted as they sucked in air between kisses, “why the fuck did I not ask you this sooner?”

“Shut up and kiss me, cargo pilot.”

\-----

 

_I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily_

_I’m here to stay and make the difference that I can make_

_Our differences, they do a lot to teach us how to use_

_The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake_

_And in the end you’re still my friend, at least we did intend_

_For us to work, we didn’t break, we didn’t burn_

_We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in_

_I had to learn what I’ve got, and what I’m not, and who I am_

 

The war was over. The paladins were scarred but more or less whole, and they were home. The five of them were squished together on one of the McClain family’s couches with Coran in the adjacent armchair, Allura perched on one of its armrests. The Holts stood in the doorway to the kitchen, each nursing a mug of hot chocolate. Lance continued to play his brother’s guitar, dusty from disuse and slightly out of tune, but Keith had a hand on his knee and he couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment.

 

_I won’t give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I’m giving you all my love_

_I’m still looking up, I’m still looking up_

_Well, I won’t give up on us (no I’m not giving up)_

_God knows I’m tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)_

_We’ve got a lot to learn (we’re alive, we are loved)_

_God knows we’re worth it (and we’re worth it)_

_I won’t give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I’m giving you all my love_

_I’m still looking up_  

“That’s one hell of a late callback,” Pidge quipped.

Lance elbowed her hard in the side.

“Sorry we missed the callbacks,” Keith deadpanned, “we were just in space for the past two years.”

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:  
> [Two is Better Than One – Boys Like Girls and Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxffT9lwHOY)  
> [Lucky – Jeremy Shada and Chloe Peterson (Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Sn_O9vDlR0)  
> [No One – Steven Yeun (Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mHJkLuZD64)  
> [Lay Me Down – Sam Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaMq2nn5ac0)  
> [I Won’t Give Up – Lennon and Maisy (Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCh7WgaPE-Y)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please visit my [Tumblr](https://bffimagine.tumblr.com) to leave me prompts, if you wish. Happy holidays to everyone, no matter what you celebrate!


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